Mask Ii Poem by Naveed Khalid

This mask of untread places far-off
beyond the sunrise,
too, hath passed that age of crimson joy,
much toiled by day's labour to my mind still,
my love of thy most high deserts,
against this world forlorn to illumine more bright
than in waste of words my body's work expires, say I,
of untamed heart and cold her most ardent desire,
shall but last that day in the mirror of thine holy eyen,
shows not half thy part, sweet maid, of virgin-mother born;
what needest I to prove thee virtuous, my Lord,
that crow's quill of surpassing wit thy brow,
rest content be oblivion, ah, but in whose love,
I most my heart hath fed in nurslings of immortality,
against all odds, all vicissitudes of the sky,
this world beside my shipwrecked dreams.

(C) Naveed Khalid

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Date Created: Tuesday, July 14,2015 11: 32: 06 PM

* inception of 6 more lines.